Who Am I
by Lexie Jayne
Summary: I don't want the world to see me, cause I don't think that they'd understand... Faith POV, Post S1


AN: Well, my first Buffy fic in four years. A Faith piece. I'm genuinely interested in critisim, so  
  
please let me know what you think. The song is the Goo Goo Dolls, "Iris."  
  
---  
  
Sit here. Sitting. It's easier than moving, because moving involves thinking. Thinking involves remembering. Remembering, blood on hands. Blood stains. They don't come out. I know. If I look down, my shirt is stained with someone else's blood. Different blood though. Bitch-fight blood. Not life blood. Not as dark as life blood. Doesn't smell like life blood either.  
  
Life blood is like a new beginning. Like opening your eyes for the first time ever. Every sense I had was on overdrive, turned up high. Sweat prickling my skin and the blood running over my hands like mercury.  
  
Does mercury burn? Blood does. It burns your mind. You never forget the feel of someone's blood. Slippery and almost greasy; you can't wash it away ...  
  
// And I'd give up forever to touch you  
  
Cause I know that you feel me somehow  
  
You're the closest to heaven that I'll ever be  
  
And I don't want to go home right now //  
  
No one visits. It's like staring at a white wall all day. Nothing. No one. Do I blame them? Hell yes. All the goddamned time. Some days I feel like cursing their names. I'll be an old woman, hating them when I die in some ditch.  
  
I can see myself now. A fucked up old woman, still wearing leather pants, puffing on cigarettes, hitting on kids. Drinking just so I can pass out and forget what blood feels like. Telling everyone I was the bad slayer. The slayer everyone wanted dead. The evil slayer. Tell everyone that in this shit world, no one ever gets a second chance. You mess up and you spend every last second in this place; no one wants you, no one cares, no one listens. You fall down, and you have to climb out again.  
  
Then Buffy pushes you back down. Or someone like Buffy who had it good all her life, not a hair out of place or the wrong coloured lipstick. My whole life, it was Buffy there, messing me up. The world is full of Buffy. If you aren't Buffy, you're not good enough.  
  
But I'm one of a kind. No one else like me. Because I'm the worst. No one else can mess up like me. Angel killed thousands, yet he's good. I kill one guy, beat the shit out of a handful, and I'm the true evil.  
  
Go figure.  
  
// And all I can taste is this moment  
  
And all I can breathe is your life  
  
And sooner or later it's over  
  
I just don't want to miss you tonight //  
  
The other women in here used to pick fights with me. Used to. One week and they learnt to back off. No one talks to me, looks at me or anything. It's like being in a padded cell, but with nothing to bounce off. You crash here. They leave you alone. You're too good to be one of them, but you're too bad to be one of the guards. Like walking around in a glass cage. Then they take you out, breaking you.  
  
I just want someone. Just to see someone sit down opposite me, wants to hear my thoughts and feeling. Wants to hear my side rather than Buffy's. Just once. Please, just one.  
  
Angel was my last chance. He visited twice. Then, out of sight, out of mind. Faith isn't going to hurt anyone else, she's locked up behind a sheet of plastic. Let's not give a stuff that I'm going slowly insane. I've never thought this much in my entire life. I feel like I'm rotting from the inside out, the blood always on my figures, Buffy always staring at me, horrified.  
  
Buffy was too good for me. I never should've trusted her. Don't trust people.  
  
// And I don't want the world to see me  
  
Cause I don't think that they'd understand  
  
When everything's made to be broken  
  
I just want you to know who I am //  
  
A girl killed herself. Stole a kettle from the kitchen, hung herself with the cord. Right in the middle of the mess hall. She was all blue and white and like some giant doll made out of that play-dough crap. And she'd slashed her throat. Blood dribbling down her body, onto the lino.  
  
No one was very hungry after that.  
  
I wonder if anyone talked to her. If anyone looked at her. I wonder if she was the Faith. I wonder if she had a Buffy.  
  
Or maybe she was the Buffy. Maybe if I had been the good slayer, that would've been Buffy dangling in the jam. Maybe the Powers stuck me behind plastic because there wasn't meant to be two of us. And Buffy's not like me. What a laugh. Buffy needs to do good. I'm five by five screwing some drummer or rotting here in prison.  
  
// And you can't fight the tears that ain't coming  
  
Or the moment of truth in your lies  
  
When everything feels like the movies  
  
Yeah you bleed just to know you're alive //  
  
I was scared. How could I not be? My Watcher was murdered, my so-called replacement Watcher was a phoney and I'm alone. I don't have friends, I have Buffy friends. I'm a Slayer, like Buffy. I'm not Faith. I'm the other Slayer. The bad Slayer.  
  
Falling. That's how I feel. I can slow down, but I can't go faster. I just want to crash and burn at this point. I'm not apart of anything anymore. Stuck in the middle. No one to talk to. Stuck behind plastic.  
  
Have you ever looked at a wall before? The paint is peeling. You'll never find the same shade of white twice. Black is nothing but an illusion. I just want someone to look at me. I want out. I fucked up, I'm sorry. I've suffered every second since I did, I think I've paid my dues. I'll go out and help people. I'll fight, I'll get killed, I'll do what I was born to do.  
  
Just don't leave me here.  
  
I'm sick of being alone.  
  
I didn't mean to hurt anyone. It wasn't meant to go this way.  
  
I'm sorry.  
  
Sorry, Buffy.  
  
I'm sorry Buffy.  
  
Please.  
  
Please.  
  
Help me.  
  
Buffy.  
  
Please help.  
  
Me Buffy.  
  
Help me Buffy.  
  
Please help me Buffy.  
  
You can't do it alone. You don't know how to. I do. We can do it together. No more plastic walls or people dying. Just you and me, girlfriend. The Chosen Two.  
  
No more white or black. No more walls of plastic and phones, and people trying to break me. I want someone to watch my back.  
  
I want.  
  
What.  
  
I had what.  
  
I want.  
  
I want what I had when I was the Other Buffy.  
  
// I don't want the world to see me  
  
Cause I don't think that they'd understand  
  
When everything's made to be broken  
  
I just want you to know who I am // 


End file.
